The mystery of God’s love
A song, a knowing sound, that calls your heart to hope
Welcome to the Mothering Spirit newsletter! Each Saturday morning, you’ll receive a round-up of the week’s posts—perfect for your weekend reading.
This week on Mothering Spirit
Rachael Stowe tells how her terminal diagnosis deepened her awe for the beauty of motherhood and the mystery of God’s love: “I hoped that the life we were creating would give them a knowledge much deeper than memory. That in their delightfully jumbled, dreamlike memories of childhood they would find an unshakable understanding of who God is, of who they are, and of their place in the world.”
Rachel Marie Kang invites us to pray with the mystery of our own mortality: “And you will hold, as He holds—in hope of glory—the bruised, beloved bones of your body.”
In Friday’s resource round-up, we asked readers: Which parenting moments give you perspective on what matters most?
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How has learning more about your family of origin shaped your parenting?
Heal the cycle. Redeem the timeline. Nurture the tree.
People talk about breaking cycles, and that is a useful model for many people. From my experience, there is too much brokenness already. Too much time has been lost. Too many relationships have been cut off, and often for a very good reason. I am trying to try a new way.
Heal the cycle. Redeem the timeline. Nurture the tree.
—From Kathleen Grigg
Want to share your story in a future Mothering Spirit newsletter? Send your response to this week’s question to newsletter@motheringspirit.com for possible inclusion in a future newsletter (400 words max).
A final word for reflection
“Maybe we, too, are anointed along the way. Maybe we are blessed by the God whose hands touched lepers’ sores and blind men’s eyes and feverish children and bleeding women. Maybe we, too, are given some sliver of peace, promised that there will be hope if not healing, relief if not remission, comfort if not cure. Maybe we are strengthened against the fear and the doubt, the grief and the anger that eats away at our insides. Maybe this is how we become Christ’s hands for each other.
I do not know. I cannot know what cuts this calling will ask me to tend, or what deeper wounds I will only be able to hold in prayer. But I do know that the tender acts, the simplest acts, the sacred acts of pressing skin to skin and blessing with our touch—that all of these—are holy.
That God is present even when we are powerless. That God is whole even when we are broken.”
From Everyday Sacrament: The Messy Grace of Parenting
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